When Freedom Calls
by BladeofMercy
Summary: When freedom calls, who will rise to answer it? Dragon Age II AU. Hawke/Anders, Bethany, Carver, and the gang. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

This is my first time really exploring the world of Fanfiction as a writer instead of a reader, and I am so excited about it.

I just want to give a big thanks to the oh-so-talented and lovely Jaden Anderson, my wonderful Beta and mentor in this new adventure I've taken on.

Also a big thanks to other authors who have served for great inspiration on this site, thank you for encouraging me to do this!

I hope everyone enjoys, there is _definitely _more to come!

* * *

"We can find the warden in Darktown. We should be careful though, he might not take our introductions to be of the friendly type."

_Ugh, Darktown_. Just the words made her shudder. As much as she was beginning to love this dwarven friend of hers, she carried mixed feelings of the places he dragged her to.

Of course, that only reminded her why they needed this Warden's maps to the Deep Roads. While absent-mindedly lacing up her boots, she thought on the possibilities this adventure could bring her. "Thanks for staying through all that, Varric. After the news this morning, I can't see myself waiting another day to get this show on the road." First off - there'd be no more of her treacherous uncle. Wouldn't that be perfect? No more moldy walls, or sharing beds with the elbow twins, or encrusted food growing its own culture in the corners. With a sigh, she thumbed the folded piece of paper that lay in her pocket - her grandfather's will that she, Varric, Bethany, and Carver had just procured earlier that day.

"Not a problem, Hawke. If I found out I had something better than that old shack, I'd be just as eager. I also can't say Bianca and I wouldn't have had a talk with your dear old uncle, if you weren't already giving him what for."

Oh, she knew. If it wasn't for her mother, she, Bethany, and Carver would have torn Gamlen in half, and set fire to his remains. Was that thought putting a smile on her face? _Awkward_. "Let's go, we shouldn't waste any more time. Might be best if I go in by myself - he might find it less intimidating meeting a fellow mage, rather than such a dangerous vixen as Bianca."

Varric chuckled and nodded in agreement, stroking the side of his crossbow as it was the cheek of a woman he deeply loved. One day, she'd coax him into getting that story. One day. "That's true. Well either way, I'll be right behind you, Hawke."

* * *

The creak of the wooden floors welcomed her the moment she stepped within the clinic, shutting the door behind her. A warm fire burned in the corner of the room, illuminating the dark walls and maroon curtains that wrapped around long wooden poles.

Small beds lined the wall, and a medley of healing scents such as ozone, saffron, vanilla, and cloves filled her nose. There was only a small family in at the moment - a mother and father worrying over their daughter who had taken a nasty knock on the head. The warden in question was healing the little girl, and the feel of his magic warmed her blood, and somehow reminded her of home.

Marian knew he was aware of her as well, and wasn't surprised when his amber eyes lifted to hers, and he smiled. "I'll be with you in just a moment." Her Amell blue eyes held his gaze for a few moments before turning back to his work.

Those few moments had afforded her a chance to catch a glimpse of his strong jaw line and the subtle swell of his plump lips. They curved into a smile that didn't quite reach his kind, yet tired eyes. Sweat furrowed his brow, and just a small strand of hair lay in the way. She wanted to tuck it behind his ear, and wipe away the sweat. _Maker, he's a pretty one_. She shifted her weight, catching the expanse of his neck that was slightly covered by an abundance of gray feathers jutting out from his pauldrons. His perfectly fitted jacket showed off a strong chest and broad shoulders. Shuddering, her eyes wandered to his hands, the long thin fingers sparking with blue orbs, giving them an appearance of being strong and gentle at the same time.

It was some time before he finished healing the child, and it seemed to take a lot out of him. As he stumbled back, the little girl took her first deep breath as she opened her eyes, her parents squealing in delight before praising and thanking their daughter's healer. They grabbed him and hugged him tightly, before scooping up their daughter. After his firm instructions of her care, they left.

* * *

"Who are you? What are you doing here? This is my home, a sanctum of healing and salvation, and I will _not_ stand for threats." She hadn't even noticed her own fingers catching with magic in response to his. But he had. His tone was sharp, and jaw was clenched, his knuckles white as he gripped his staff.

She called forth a small wisp of healing magic to her hands as she spoke, hoping her words came from a place of warmth deep within. "I wasn't planning on threatening you, it's really not my style. Marian Hawke - but most call me Hawke." She waved her hand in the air. "Fellow apostate, Ferelden born. I heard you might have some maps that might just be of interest to me – however no one said anything about you being incredibly handsome." _Where the hell did that come from?! Ugh, Isabela. _She held her glowing hand out, a blush undoubtedly framing her cheeks, hoping to properly make his acquaintance.

Anders shook his head and his shoulders dropped in relief. His grip had loosened on his staff, his devilish grin pinning her to the spot. _Yum. _

"Handsome, huh? Well, I suppose you could call me that if you like, but for anyone else - my name is Anders." He winked at her and then added thoughtfully. "Fellow apostate you said? Well, good. For a moment, I thought you were a warden. And I won't go back to them. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat, Ser Pounce a Lot."

She giggled. "I'm sorry about your cat, but… was it really named Ser Pounce a Lot?"

"Hey, don't laugh! He was my cat, a gift from the Warden Commander, and Hero of Ferelden herself. We named him together. I took him into the Deep Roads once. Little bugger swatted a darkspawn right on the nose. He was a fierce companion." He was watching her, discreetly sizing her up as he spoke. _Is he checking me out right now?_ Oh, she was fine with that.

"Those are actually the maps I'm looking for – the ones to the Deep Roads. Do you have them?" She shifted as his mood seemed to dim, as he placed his staff beside the mantle of the fire.

Anders brow furrowed. "I do. But why would you want to go there? I hate the blighted Deep Roads. The last time I went…well. Let's just say it got a little more intense than I ever would have liked."

* * *

She finally talked him into giving her the help she needed - though, it had taken very little prodding. It was obvious that they liked one another. Or, maybe she was just reading into it, but he seemed to be picking up everything she put down, and throwing it right back at her.

"All I ask is that you help me with something tonight in return for those maps you need, Hawke. My friend who was in the circle with me back in Ferelden – Karl, was brought here when the circle needed new _talent." _He spit the last word out like it carried the plague with it, and continued. "I need to find him, to break him free and get him out of there. The circles here, they're nothing like the ones in Ferelden. People are made tranquil even after passing their harrowing, and I fear he is next." His eyes were sorrowful and he worried at his lip and she found herself unable to say no.

She grabbed Varric from outside and the three of them headed to The Hanged Man for Isabela – she was wicked with her blades and Marian had no doubt she'd be perfect against some unruly Templars.

Finally it was night and they reached the steps of the chantry, watching the sun fall from the sky before they climbed the steps and made their way inside.

"Do me a favor, don't tell my brother and sister about this." She was staring right at Varric when she said it – he had the biggest most loveable mouth.

"Why do you have to look at me when you say things like that, Hawke?"

Isabela interjected "Because you like to tell everyone everything, chest hair – I mean, Varric."

"Oh, please. Ahem! Eyes up here, Rivaini."

Anders let out a chuckle when Marian looked his way. "This is what I deal with every day. Welcome to my life."

Everyone grew quiet when they realized the chantry was completely empty aside from them.

Isabela wasted no time disappearing into the shadows. Hawke felt Anders move closer to her, his breath barely touching the side of her neck.

"Thank you for this," he whispered.

She simply smiled. She told him she would do anything to help a fellow mage and she wasn't lying. Here she was, watching Isabela signal them up the stairs with staff ready in hand.

_It's what her father would have done, anyway._

* * *

Marian let out a gasp of horror that echoed Ander's desperate cry as Karl turned around, that sunburst brand fresh upon his forehead. _They were too late._

"I knew you wouldn't give up," Karl spoke. "That is why I was made an example of. Here they are templars." Templars seemed to come from the shadows that surrounded them. Isabela looked incredibly pissed and was steadying her blades as Varric sneered and loaded up Bianca. They were ready for battle.

"No! You will not take another mage as you took him!" Anders' voice grew dark and haunted as he spoke, his skin coming to life with blue light, his eyes vacant and replaced with the burning of a thousand suns. Rage rippled from him in pure energy, making Marian's hairs stand straight up. He smelled like the fade - ozone and fire - and she looked at him in bewilderment.

_Anders isn't an abomination, is he? No, he'd look a lot less sexy if he was. This is something completely different. What in the void is he?_

Before she had time to react to what she had just seen, a blade came at her with great force. She called forth her magic in a burst of electricity aimed at the offending templar. Anders, or whatever it was that stood beside her, called forth power form the fade, his spells coming from a place of fire and ice while she commanded lightning and force. They moved effortlessly with one another, casting complimenting spells that felled their foes. Isabela snuck up behind them, finishing them off with a quick slice across the neck, while Varric sent arrows that ended up lodged deeply within a templar's skull.

When their foes lay fallen, Anders returned from wherever he was, and he almost fell back, if not for Marian catching him in her arms. He turned and smiled at her weakly, before righting himself and turning to Karl who began to speakife seeming to return to his eyes. _Impossible._

"Anders, what did you do? It's as if you brought a piece of the fade with you into this world."

She was still in shock. Anders going all blue and flamey and now Karl wasn't tranquil anymore? "But you're -"

"There's no time for this." Karl's eyes lay sharply upon hers before turning his loving gaze to his friend. "Anders, whatever you have done - I can feel it fading. Please, take my life. The emptiness, the pain - I can't…" Karl placed a hand on Anders' shoulder, leaning his forehead against his in an all-too-tender embrace. Isabela quirked an eyebrow and Marian ignored it. There was no time for Isabela's jokes, not when this man was about to die.

"You can't ask me to do this, Karl." Anders' voice broke.

Without hesitation, Hawke placed a hand affectionately upon his shoulder. "You know just as well as I do that being tranquil is a fate worse than death. Please, Anders. Grant him this mercy."

Then he pulled the dagger from his robes, and she watched with regret as he plunged the dagger into the friend they'd come there to save. "I'm sorry….Karl."

She grabbed his hand and led him away; they couldn't dally. Surely, the templars knew they had men there, as well as Karl. Others would be coming.

* * *

She hadn't let go of his hand the whole way back to his clinic, not even when they said goodbye to Isabela and Varric as they parted to spend their night at The Hanged Man.

Even though he looked ready to burst at the seams, somewhere between uncontrollable sobbing and leveling the whole of Kirkwall with one spell, he never let go of her hand. She had dried tears on her face that she had been wiping away with her free hand - she had been weeping for Karl half the way to Anders' clinic, her father's words replaying in her head. _No mage should ever suffer being made Tranquil. It's a fate much worse than death._

Once they were safe inside his home, he slid his fingers from her and threw his staff across the room. He let out a howl of something he had been holding onto since he saw his friend fall lifeless to the floor and his spirit crumbled. "Damn the Templars!"

"They don't see us as people," she replied, a deep-seeded anger in her heart that surely matched his now showing light for the first since they'd met.

"Right. They don't care that Karl was someone's son, someone's lover." He gulped.

He sat down before her on a wooden crate and tore the ribbon from his hair, letting his long locks hang loose as he held his head in his hands. "If you're born with Magic, they hear about it. They search your little rat-spit village and find you. They tell your parents they'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of their rights in the eyes of the Maker. If you run away, they hunt you down. Again, and again, and again." That same blue that flared in the chantry illuminated the walls again until she put a hand on his shoulder. When his eyes met hers, they were full of bitter unshed tears.

"I know what you mean. My father was an apostate. He took my mother away from her nobility in Kirkwall, and they ran together. After all those years of running, the Templars finally found my father and took him away from us. Those bastards killed him right in front of my whole family." She hugged herself at the memory of her mother screaming until her voice was gone, holding her father's lifeless body so tight to her that she thought he might have burst. "It's just not right."

"Andraste's words were that magic must not rule over man. It's not ruling to simply wish the same rights for everyone, magic or no. Doesn't every mage deserve the freedom you and your father had?"

She simply agreed. Suddenly as if struck by a brilliant idea she smiled and headed for the door. "My sister as well. My father wasn't always free either, you know. It seems we have a lot to talk about, and I have a great idea of how to cheer us up. I will be right back."

* * *

When Hawke walked back into the clinic, he looked up from his desk and placed his quill in an ink bottle, closing the pages of the book he seemed to be writing.

She pulled out two bottles of wine from the basket she was carrying and uncorked them, handing one to Anders.

"You know, I had a friend like you once," Anders began as he stood up to greet her. "The Warden Commander. We got in all kinds of trouble, I got dragged along. I never thought I'd be doing that again." To that they clinked their bottles and enjoyed the companionable silence for a time.

As the night progressed, they shared things like how they ended up in Kirkwall and old stories of times in Ferelden, fleeing the Templars.

At some point during their evening, they made their way to the docks, their feet hanging over the edge as they sat, casting shadows on the water.

"Thank you for talking with me tonight, Hawke." They both had a beautiful buzz going, half of their bottles gone as they kept each other's pace.

"You know, can tell me anything, Anders. I'll do my best to be there. You'd be surprised how people just tell me their darkest secrets. I must look trustworthy."

"You look - _something_. True, proud. Like even if you don't agree with me, you'll be honest." He licked his lips, the moon caressing the features before her and he placed his hand over hers, intertwining their fingers letting his thumb trace absentmindedly. "Be careful what you offer."

She shrugged and let out a giggle, and squeezed his hand gently. "I mean it."

"You know, it hasn't even been a full day since we met and I already feel like I've known you my whole life, like I can trust you with anything. I've never had that before. You weren't ever in the circle - thank the Maker, but I will tell you growing up there, everything is about order and rules and the Templars. The Apprentices… we had found ways to make that bearable." He took a deep breath. "Karl and I… he was the first. We could forget that out in the world we were nothing more than Templar slaves."

She understood. When she lived on the run in Ferelden, she had taken comfort her fair share of times, bedding a maid or a man all the same just for the comfort of a warm body. "Did he inspire your merge with the blue guy then? In order to free him?"

"I was actually beginning to wonder when you would bring that up." He let out a sigh, brushing his hair back through his fingers and preparing himself. Whatever he had to say, it was clear it was not easy to be saying. "That had nothing to do with Karl, actually. When I was in the Wardens, we met a spirit called Justice who was trapped outside the Fade, in the body of a dead warden named Kristoff. He was a great friend to me. We often stood up on late nights sharing thoughts on the injustice done to mages. He listened to my stories of being trapped in the circle, and the many ways I escaped. The last time I escaped, before being taken to the Keep they put me in solitary confinement for a year. The only friend I had then was this cat named Whiskers. He'd sneak into my cell and keep me company, let me hold him and pet him. He kept me sane, well – as sane as you can be for being stuck in a cell with barely anything to eat except for rotted bread."

He put the bottle to his lips and she watched as he took a few long drinks, and then looked into her eyes, seeming to be searching for the strength to finish what he started. She wanted to tell him it was fine to stop, but the look on his face said this was something he _needed_ to tell her. "There was a Warden named Roland. We spent every day together with Justice in my last few months in Ferelden . Apparently the wardens knew what I planned with Justice, and decided along with the Templars that I needed to be watched."

He faltered and she offered a sweet smile, he was almost there. She could feel it. "What about the Warden Commander, your friend?"

Anders nodded in response, his jaw clenched tight when the word _friend_ slipped from her lips. "She would have never betrayed me like that. She couldn't have known what they were planning."

"What happened next?" She prodded.

"One day, Rolan and I went out into the woods, I don't even remember why. We came to this part of the forest I had never seen before, and then I fell unconscious. All I remember is Justice coming to me in the fade, offering his assistance for the freedom of mages, and when I woke up Rolan was standing over me, with Templars at his back. I merged with Justice right in front of him, like a fool. Then, I remember nothing but waking up in the middle of a burning forest, with all of the Templars and Rolan bloodied and dismembered – I realized Justice and I had murdered them all. I truly didn't know what would happen when we merged. I figured a willing host, a friend of his, it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse. I remembered thinking as I looked at all the carnage, 'This is not justice. This is not the spirit who was my friend, and my self. What has he become? What have I become? Is there a place for me anywhere?' So I ran somewhere that no one from my past would know me. Somewhere I could possibly call home. Kirkwall." He looked haunted, but he managed a weak smile, waving his hand about grandly.

She slipped her hand from his and his eyes met hers. For the first time since they met he looked so uncertain, his eyes unable to hold hers for more than just a few moments before he'd look at a stack of barrels in the corner, or a docked boat to their right. She took her hand from his and turned to him, standing with little grace and pulling him up with her. They slipped into an embrace and she squeezed tightly, letting all of her empathy and understanding wash over in waves. She truly had nothing to say, and he understood.

He dropped his chin to rest on her head, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. "You're the first person I've ever told this, Hawke. Thank you - for not running away." She felt so small in his arms, so comfortable. This close to his chest she could smell his scent and feel the strength in his arms, and she was so reluctant to pull back but did, and then took his hand again.

"Like I said, you can tell me anything."

* * *

Soft words carried on until the faint light of dawn crept across their faces. He stood behind her and they watched the sun rise together, then he took her hand and walked her home.

He offered his assistance to her as he said goodbye simply saying "I am yours, if you need me."

She watched him walk away before closing the door to her Uncle's house - if you could call it that - and lost herself in thought.

Saying good bye to him after that made her feel _achy_.

She almost wished he was the sort of man that would take advantage of the wine and good conversation to have her right there, but the other was glad to find such a perfect gentleman, and friend.

_Friend for now. After all, he did say he was mine, didn't he?_ She felt her heart race.

She smiled to herself as she closed the door to her bedroom, not minding that she'd have to lay on the floor, seeing as Bethany and Carver had spread themselves over her spot, in what looked like an all-out epic battle as they slept.

She stared at the ceiling and ran her fingers over her lips, imagining Anders. It brought back memories of the other night with Fenris, when he'd asked if she'd ever thought of returning home.

Well, Ferelden was lost to the blight. Gamlen's certainly wasn't an option for much longer.

But maybe Kirkwall, with her family, her friends, and especially this man who had entered her life and managed to fiddle his way into her heart overnight…

_Maybe Kirkwall could be her new home._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

Special thanks to Jaden Anderson. :)

* * *

Anders was beginning to worry.

It had been almost a week since their first night together and he hadn't heard a word from Hawke.

With her by his side that night he had allowed himself to be vulnerable in a way he hadn't afforded in years. Something about her warm smile and the true understanding that gleamed in her eyes made him feel like he was warm in bed with fresh hot tea in his stomach.

A year ago if he had met her, he would have tried to bed her immediately, to claim her, and to taste those pink lips that curled into an absolutely killer smile. But he was different now, as proved by the spirit that buzzed angrily in his mind at the prospect of romance.

Despite that, his mind was made up. He walked over to the wooden chair in the corner of his makeshift room and slipped on his jacket, patting the dust out of his pauldrons and slipping it on. His fingers fumbled over the clasps, _Maker_ was he nervous.

_We're not working today. I have to see her._

_"Anders, we don't have time for such folly."_

_I'll make the time. I've spent my whole life running from the templars for a chance to be free, to find the right to-_

_"A pretty girl, a decent meal and the right to shoot lightning at fools. I know."_

_You know why those things are important? Because those are things you get when you have the freedom to claim them, Justice. _

_"Whatever."_

Anders grabbed his staff and turned the lanterns off outside the clinic doors before making his way to Lowtown, determination flaring through his veins.

* * *

A younger man with shaggy black hair and the same eyes as Marian answered the door. He stood as tall and proud as a mabari, his muscular arms crossed as he glared at the man standing before him.

"Yeah, what do you want?"

Anders cleared his throat, his mouth curving into a knowing smile. This had to be her little brother.

"You must be Carver. I'm Anders. Pleasure to meet you." He held his hand out to Carver, but the boy simply stared at it like it was tainted, undoubtedly wondering how the hell he knew who he was.

Feeling slightly defeated, he let his hand drop down to his side. "I was actually looking for your sister, Marian. Is she home?"

Carver straightened and seemed to measure Anders up with his eyes before turning into the house and slamming the door in his face.

_Um, okay. That went well._

_"Told you."_

_Shut up, Justice._

He started walking down the stairs when he heard the door open again. He turned, the awkward introduction with her brother forgotten.

She looked like she'd just woken up, her long jet black hair tossed carelessly into a bun, her eyes tired as she blocked out the sun, before letting out a yawn that threatened to split her face. She wore simple black leggings and a white undershirt that hugged and outlined her curves.

Anders had made a point to commit every part of her to memory the night they'd first met, convinced she was a dream. However, standing in front of him now was the reality. The weight of the realization made his heart pound against his chest, while his imagination stirred long enough to create a scene in his head, of waking up one morning to find her beside him, looking just like this.

"Had I known you were sleeping, I would have come later." Anders felt his smile burn his cheeks, and then she smiled back, offering no real reply but to simply cross the space between them. She slipped her arms around his waist, drawing herself flush against him.

Also committed to memory was the overwhelming need to protect and care for her. The primal instance had taken hold the first time they'd embraced and seemed unwilling to release him. She fit so perfectly in his arms, her head coming to rest in the nook of his shoulder.

Any doubts he had in their powerful chemistry were erased with this simple gesture. He squeezed his eyes shut, the world vanishing until just the two of them remained, with his face buried in her hair, breathing in the perfect marriage of saffron, honey, and citrus.

"I was beginning to wonder when I would see you again," she mused as she looked up at him, his mouth hovering just above hers. Her eyes wandered over his face and rested on his lips for a moment, before she stepped back out of his arms.

_Tease. _

_"_I was just about to meet Varric at the Hanged Man for breakfast. Would you like to join us? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

His stomach growled at the mention of breakfast and they laughed together, a blush playing across his face. "I'd love to."

* * *

Anders had never really bothered to leave Darktown once Lirene had set him up. She'd bring him weekly shipments of supplies, and with patients coming by the hordes, he never really had the chance to explore Kirkwall.

It seemed Hawke had other plans, and he had a feeling that this slender, beautiful girl was about to show him exactly what he'd been missing.

The rickety sign of a pirate hanging from his feet by rusty chains above the establishment told him they'd reached their destination.

She pulled him through the door, and he coughed as the smell of stale piss and vomit assaulted his nose. Despite the stench and the early hour, there seemed to be quite a bit of business drumming through.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I always forget to warn people about the smell. I don't even notice it anymore. I promise it smells better upstairs."

She squeezed his hand as she led him toward the only open door visible from the stairwell. Although this place was nothing like the taverns back in Ferelden, he wasn't surprised to catch some similarities, like the sight of peeling paint curling on the walls. There was also this randomly discarded pile of wood that lined one of the darkest corners. What that was for was beyond him, and he _certainly_ wasn't going to ask. Luckily the lanterns didn't offer much light - he had absolutely no desire to know what he was stepping in, his black boots crunching against the old wooden floorboards that creaked under each step, occasionally sticking to..._something_.

Seated in a chair made for a king, the dwarf sat at the head of the grand oak table laden with fruits and jams. Fresh rolls of bread lay next to his folded hands, still steaming fresh. A dainty elven woman with eyes as big as a baby Halla sat beside him, giggling at something he'd obviously said, a faint blush coming across her cheeks. The room was lit better than downstairs, and showed off the velvet curtains that adorned the walls. Anders wasn't surprised to find his bed set aside from the rest of the room, although the size of it was marveling. With a cock of his head, he pondered on his first impression of Varric, deciding that it was actually quite the appropriate establishment for him. His personality was larger than life, much like his stories.

"Lethallan, and well, who is that? Greetings!" The elven girl called and waved them over eagerly.

"That's Blondie! Hawke! It's so good to see you two. Come, sit! There's enough for everyone."

Saliva pooled in his mouth the moment he scented the fresh bread. Eager to eat, he held open a chair for Hawke, who thanked him as she sat, scooting in as he took his own seat across from her.

"Anders, of course you remember Varric. This is Merrill, Merrill this Anders." Marian introduced them with a bristle, like she knew something was coming that he obviously didn't.

"So his name's not really Blondie then? Why do you call him that Varric?"

"Because he's blonde, Daisy." There wasn't even a small hint of annoyance with her childish prodding.

"Ohhh." She chuckled.

Marian rolled her eyes and gave a weak laugh, wasting no time tearing one of the loaves of bread in half and handing Anders the larger piece. Setting hers on her plate, she reached for a spoon of the warm golden honey, smearing it over the top, as he reached for the strawberry jam.

_Warm bread and fresh fruit, when was the last time I even had this? Thank the Maker for small favors._

"It's very nice to meet you, Merril. Great to see you again, Varric. This room is so grand, despite the decor downstairs. It's all so very...you," he chuckled.

"Hey, The Hanged Man is a wonderful place. I'd have it no other way." Varric chuckled as a loud groan came from the doorway. Everyone's eyes shifted toward the sound and Isabela sauntered in, looking very much like she the void's worst hangover. She took the seat across from Merrill right next to Anders, grabbing a strawberry from the silver platter and taking a bite out of it, releasing a soft moan as she reveled in the sweetness.

Marian rolled her eyes, and let out a laugh, winking at Anders. He'd met Isabela the same day as he had Hawke, and from what he'd seen, he really wasn't all that surprised to see her in such shape today. Still he was curious about what happened the night before, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Although, last night was totally worth it. Ugh! My head feels like it was slammed against a wall," Isabela griped as she pulled a flask from her boot and took a drink.

"One would not be surprised how little you remember with the amount of drink you had last night, Isabela." A deep voice boomed from the doorway.

Anders couldn't prevent his mouth from falling open as he looked over the white-haired elf. Light blue tattoos curled in intricate designs over every part of his body that wasn't covered by the heavily detailed black plate armor he wore. Anders could feel the power drawing at him and realized these tattoos weren't made with ink but lyrium. _There is no way he had that done willingly. He'd have to be absolutely insane. How did he even survive it? _Anders looked for the answer and found it in the elf's face, the light aging telling the story of suffering. By the way his eyes watched every movement and his ears perked at distant sounds, he could tell this was a man on the run. But from what, exactly? Honestly, Anders wasn't sure he wanted to know. His gauntlets pointed like daggers at the tips and his posture was confident, surely he was a trained killer and Anders didn't want to get all too close to that.

Hawke began informing him on last night's escapades, snapping Anders' attention back from the elf. "We all got together last night after doing a job for one of Bela's friends. He ended up buying us drinks the whole night, and she made sure she had three times more than her normal fill of ale, one of the men downstairs got a little handsy and ended up causing a small disruption." Hawke grinned.

Varric scoffed. "Small? Hawke you're starting to pick up my story telling techniques. Rivaini here got the whole bar started in on one another."

Out of the corner of Anders' eye he noticed that once the elf stepped into the room, Isabela curved forward, her top straining against the material. Though Anders had little interest in the pirate, he found his own gaze straying to the delectable view as she laughed. "Mmm, you're looking especially dangerous today, Fenris. If you'd ever like to-"

_Maker, she's going to poke an eye out with those things. They're huge!_

"No." His glare seemed to burn a hole into Isabela, who simply smirked and sat back, taking another swig from her flask, her eyes never leaving Fenris' as he took his seat next to Marian.

"I see we have another mage in our midst. The company you keep, Hawke." Fenris spat and turned his gaze on Anders then.

_Are you__ shitting__ me? Does he not know who he's sitting next to?_

If Anders was a teapot, he would be whistling with steam. His upper lip curled, and his stomach boiled with anger and a tinge of jealousy. The elf regarded Hawke politely enough, with a shadow of a smile, before returning his fierce green eyes on Anders. Apparently it was only him the elf had an issue with.

His eyes stayed trained on him as he snapped back. "I'm sorry. What in the void is that supposed to mean?" Anders' hands curled into tight fists, the very air thickening with tension.

"Enough! Maker, Fenris, must you always do this?" she growled. "Fenris, this is Anders. Anders, Fenris." Her commanding tone slapped them both out of whatever deadly spell held them entranced. Scoffing, Fenris ignored the introduction and took some fruit for his own plate. Marian rolled her eyes in resignation.

"A pleasure to meet you, Fenris," Anders said bluntly, his jaw tightening around the elf's name.

Anders was really glad not to be on the receiving end of the glare she was throwing at Fenris.

Varric let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. "Damn Broody, you sure know how to keep the party going."

"I do not brood." Fenris tried to snap at the dwarf but it simply sounded like more of a statement. At least being friends with Varric was something that even they could have in common, and since he was planning on sticking around, it seemed he and Fenris would have to get along, at least one day.

Carver came in as Anders was plating his second portion, living up to the rumors of living up to the rumors of a Grey Warden. If anyone noticed, they didn't make a comment. Carver took his seat next to Fenris and giving the man a friendly smile, greeting him warmly.

_He's friends with Carver? It all makes sense now. Two prigs in a pod._

Carver exchanged his greetings with everyone, even saying hello to Anders casually, as though he hadn't slammed the door in his face earlier. When his eyes met Merrill's he began busying himself with plating his breakfast.

"I believe you met my brother Carver, earlier." Hawke sounded warm when addressing him and he offered her a smile.

"Yes, we met. Good to see you again Anders." _This kid was insane. _"Bethany and Aveline will be here in a moment, sister."

"Is everything all right?" The others were all off on separate conversations now, Merrill pestering Fenris, and Varric and Isabela talking about lengths - of daggers, Anders hoped. He enjoyed watching from the outside, speaking only when spoken to, gathering a feel of the group before jumping right in, he'd always been an observer. One could never be too careful, and he'd learned that the hard way.

"They went out this morning shortly after you left with Anders, to send the finished petition to the Viscount about the estate. Mother was going to let you know, but she said you left in quite a hurry." Marian blushed and Carver grinned when Varric's ears perked up and he leaned in, suddenly fully engaged on the conversation.

"Uh oh. I'm sensing a story here." Varric was grinning ear to ear.

If Anders gaze hadn't turned to Marian at that moment, he would have missed her mouthing _"You little bastard!" _at Carver before the dwarf pulled out a quill and parchment, and began writing down notes.

* * *

Loud laughter carried throughout the suite as the hour grew late, until the table was cleared of all food and replaced with tankards of ale.

The loud clanking of armor carried up the stairs and into the suite came a tall, broad shouldered woman with flaming red hair, freckles sprawled across her face, softening her masculine jaw and pointed nose. She was obviously a city guard, bearing their armor and standing proudly in it. It looked freshly shined, she took pride in it. Her face looked firm until Marian stood from the table and greeted her with a hug, despite the discomfort that probably caused her. The woman broke into a grin then, patting her friend on the back and holding her out at arm's length and smiling. They were obviously very close.

"Aveline! So good to see you. How did it go with the Viscount?" Marian seemed eager to hear all about the meeting, but when Aveline met her with a tired sigh the smile she was carrying the whole day through dropped.

_Uh oh._

The week before when they met, one of the things they talked about that night was the inheritance the Amell grandparents had left her family and how her uncle had squandered it all away. She held such hope and spoke so fondly of the estate they had cleared, taking the time to dish out every detail until he felt like he had been there himself. There was a _lot_ riding on this for her, that much she had made clear.

"Unfortunately the Viscount won't see her on the matter until after you've left for the deep roads. Don't worry though, I will make sure she is seen and that it all works out. I promise." Varric slid a mug full of ale down the table her way, and she caught it without even looking, turning to nod her thanks to him and taking a seat.

"Thank you, it means the world to us." She sounded slightly desperate with her thanks and Carver shifted uneasily when Marian took her seat.

_He was feeling it, too_.

"Bethany is at home with your mother, she didn't want to leave her. They seemed just as distraught as the two of you over the delay. She reminds you not to worry, she wants you both to have a good time."

In frustration, Marian pulled her hair down from the neat bun it was in and shook her fingers through it as it fell in waves over her shoulders, the ends grazing over the top of her breasts. He couldn't stop himself from watching her despite Carver's glaring. Of course she noticed too, smiling at him despite her inner struggle to keep calm.

* * *

Anders found himself at ease in this place, with these people - even Fenris and Carver - as the afternoon turned into night and the ale flowed freely. It was no surprise to him that they were all here because of her.

Since Fenris walked through the door, Isabela had tried to bed him but he just wouldn't budge. She gave up and turned her attentions on Carver, and when he returned them, Anders used it as an opportunity to take Marian by the hand and slip out of the tavern. They nodded silent farewells to their companions on the way out, Isabela throwing them a knowing wink and turning Carver's head with a laugh that jiggled her breasts, snapping him back into her attention.

He held out his arm and she hooked hers around it, and placed her head on his shoulder as they walked out of the tavern together.

* * *

He had walked her to her door, but she seemed so reluctant to go inside, as he was to let her go. She looked like she needed comfort, but at the same time like she didn't want to talk about it. They were both feeling good from the ale, and it was enough to still her for now. He was certain they'd talk about later if she truly needed it.

It was the first time they had been alone since this morning and they reveled in it.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Anders, I have a question for you."

"Ask me anything."

"Would you agree with the notion that life is short, and that if you want something it is better to reach out and take it, instead of wasting away, never knowing what could have been?" Her head was tilted down at the ground as she spoke, and he watched her lip play between her teach, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to find the words.

_Is she talking about us? __**Please **__be talking about us._

When he couldn't quite put anything together, he tossed the mental letters he'd been writing her the past week to the wind, and settled instead of tucking his index finger under her chin and lifting.

Her eyes flared, and without another word, she grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him in a deep, long kiss that made him feel drunk off more than ale. He let her lead the kiss, her lips even softer than they looked and he felt a moan escape from deep within at the feel of them. Her tongue slid softly across his lower lip begging for purchase and he opened his mouth for her. Their tongues made the kiss more passionate and when it became too much they broke their lips apart, Marian holding onto his Jacket still, both of their breathing labored as they gauged one another's reactions.

Pleasant surprise warmed him, and Maker, the sight of her lips, plump and reddened from their kiss, her eyes burning with an intensity he'd never seen, left him speechless.

_Holy Maker. Preferably every day, starting immediately - there needs to be more kissing Marian in my life._

Heart racing in his chest, he realized he wanted more. _No_, he _needed_ more, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her tightly against him again, nuzzling his nose against hers before moving down for another kiss.

She let out her own moan, the hand that gripped his jacket sliding up to cup his face, her other capturing his wrist to ensure he held her in place.

"Minx." He chuckled as he touched his forehead to hers, both of their smiles infectious and threatening to crack their faces.

"Mmm." She traced the outline of his jaw affectionately with her thumb as she tilted her head back to look into his eyes. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Honey, you can see me whenever you like."

_A pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools. _

_Looks like I'm two-thirds of the way there._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note**: I want to thank the beautiful, kind and talented Jaden Anderson for being my Beta for these first three chapters, and for teaching me a few things along the way. I am currently looking for a new beta, as she has to focus on her professional career because she's fancy like that. Haha.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I am sorry it took so long to get out there. My personal life is very chaotic right now. I will try to update more frequently. I appreciate all the favorites, follows and reviews and I look forward to more input from my fellow friends and readers.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**6 months later**

"You look so beautiful."

Anders could tell just by looking at her that she was exhausted. She had spent all day in the clinic with him, helping him mend children and elderly and everything in between. She yawned, pushing him away playfully as she finished the last bit of cleaning for the night. He knew she was tired but he couldn't get enough of her, and he loved when she rested her legs on top of his when they sat next to each other at Varric's grand table, gossiping, drinking, or playing games of Wicked Grace - normally a mix of the three.

"I'm sorry but I'm not going, Anders. I'm exhausted, plus Bethany is waiting up for me. She's doing my hair tonight."

He loved the styles Bethany chose for her, flattering her heart shaped face, and making her blue eyes pop like daggers, cutting into his soul. He couldn't say no to his lady getting rest and dolling up for him at the same time. She deserved it after all she did for him.

He sighed, pulling her into his arms for a kiss. "I guess I can't argue with that. I will walk you home, my lady."

"Mhmm. You're too good to me." She grinned, kissing him once more before he took her arm and led her home.

* * *

Anders had a love-hate relationship with escorting her home. He hated the thought of being parted from her, but watching those hips sway as she left was quite worth it. Licking his lips, he stole one last glance before she closed the door.

_Maker I want nothing more than to spend my life between those thighs._

He explained to her that Justice was inside of him and wasn't all too excited about their relationship but as his friend never wanted to meddle in it. However, he had. Whenever he began to get aroused, he'd hear Justice, and it completely killed the mood. He was so glad, and felt so lucky, to have found someone like her, someone who understood his plight, and one that was simply happy to be with him.

They would be heading to the Deep Roads soon, and he knew better than anyone with their group that there was a chance they wouldn't return. Bethany offered earlier in the day to take care of his clinic while they left and he was grateful.

He spent the better half of the morning showing her where everything was, then quizzing her when he was done, chuckling when she rolled her eyes. Seeing that she knew what she was doing brought him peace of mind.

* * *

He was thinking of the business he needed to finish before they left, so close to the amount of coin they needed when he heard the _unfavorably familiar _shuffling of metal behind him.

"_Templars."_

_Do not show yourself. _

"_You will die if I don't."_

_I will definitely die if you do, if you don't, we might stand a chance._

"_Fine."_

Justice's presence faded, leaving him surrounded by foreboding statues of metal men, with flaming sword branded on the breastplate for all to see. He turned, realizing that what sounded like a large group of templars was actually only four. Somewhat manageable.

_I have to stay strong, for her. I won't submit. I will die to keep her safe._

"Apostate, you have two choices. Come willingly, or die trying to run."

Anders said nothing, balling his hands into fists, his nails cutting into his hand to fight for control.

"So be it."

In perfect time an armored metal boot made contact with Anders, knocking all the air from him and dropping him to the ground. It felt like a Mabari had charged head-first into his chest, and soon, the men were on him, their rough kicks unable to draw a scream from him. Anders blasted them from him, standing up and surrounding himself with daggers of ice and throwing fire onto the men's armor, to heat their skin within. He froze one man still and kicked the shards, watching the man break into pieces, gory ice cubes falling to the floor.

Anders attempted to call a simple protection spell, but the moment a hint of his magic left his fingers, one of the templars smote him. He fell to the ground, his magic expelled from him with that one blast, completely draining his mana.

It was a simple miscalculation - but one that seemed capable of ending his life. The last standing templar's dagger made its way through Ander's chest. Gasping, his whole world faded into darkness, and all that he knew then was pain.

_Marian._

"_More men are coming. They mean to help. Rest. We will make it."_

* * *

Many nights ended like this.

Marian sat in front of Bethany, eyes shut as her sister brushed through her long hair. They'd hum old Fereldan tunes and share the events of their day, or recap the more fun moments when they ventured together.

"How is Anders?" Bethany cooed. A smile crept so wide at the mention of his name that Bethany giggled as she ran through a tangled bunch at the bottom of her sisters' head.

"He's perfect. Truly. I've never been happier." Marian bit her lip. Whenever she heard mention of his name, she felt the need to be next to him, wrapped in his strong arms, his lips pressed against hers as he whispered reassurance that he'd never leave. "He reminds me so much of father. Kind, strong, hard working. Father gave everything he had to keep us safe and free. Anders does the same. He just loves me in a different way. At least, I think he loves me."

"Anyone with eyes can see his love for you, sister. He is a good man. You are lucky, as is he. What about you? Do you love him?"

Marian grinned, avoiding the answer and abruptly changing the subject. "What about Fenris, Bethany? You two sure seem to be spending a lot of time together."

Bethany scoffed, laying the brush on the bed before taking Marian's hair between her fingers and braiding it. "Some days he makes me feel like he needs me and that he cares for me on a deeper level, but then other days he pushes me away and bids me to leave him be, but I just can't. I don't understand him."

Marian pitied her little sister. Fenris was a good man, but he stood firm on many principles: most of all, never trust a mage. The fact that he had stolen her sister's heart made Marian furious. He'd do nothing but hurt her. He cared more for vengeance than love, but still her sister followed her heart and stood by him. Carver, Fenris' closest friend of the band of misfits they traveled with, had even begged his sister to leave him be but she refused to listen.

Still, when Fenris was gravely injured he was found on their doorstep, calling only for Bethany. She was the only one ever allowed to touch him, and it was things like that, that gave Bethany the strength to stand by him.

_Maker bless her heart._

"He will come around sister. You are beautiful, and kind, and you have so much love to give. When he is ready, I know he will come to you, begging on his knees for forgiveness- and before you know it, Isabela and Varric will be writing all the naughty bits down."

Bethany's laugh warmed Marian's heart. Whenever someone hurt either of her siblings, she wanted nothing more than to kill the bastard that brought them hurt, but sometimes a smile was all she could do for them. _Mission accomplished_. Now, she just had to hope Carver could talk some sense into Fenris, but for now - she buried herself in the blankets, and went to sleep.

* * *

"I've tried, my dear sister. Maker knows I have. But the things they did to him in Tevinter..." Carver's eyes were distant and his jaw locked with an anger reserved for the ones who dared harm his family. Marian knew better than to press when he was set on something.

"I understand, Carver. I just hate seeing Bethany like this. I am certain she loves him, I just wish he wasn't stringing her along." She sighed, leaning back against the wall of their shared bedroom.

"He has never strung her along, Marian. He has been very clear about why he can't give himself to her. Until his Master isn't chomping at his heels he doesn't see himself as a free man. It doesn't help that she has The Gift, either. Despite the fact that she's my sister, and Maker believe me I know he cares for her, I just don't ever see him getting past that."

"Then again, he only lets her touch him, despite how much pain it puts him in. What does that say?"

"It says Fenris may be a little bit indecisive despite him liking to think he is set in his ways. I will talk to Bethany. Give him time." He pressed a hand to his sister's cheek.

"Are you happy, sister?" Genuine concern flooded his eyes. He may have been younger, but _Maker _did he take his role as man of the house seriously, as overprotective as father and then some.

Marian clasped her hand around her brothers, holding it against her cheek. Carver wasn't very affectionate, and this had become the form of hug he gave them over the years.

_I love these moments. _

"I am happier than I've ever remembered."

Carver's hand dropped from hers, and the smile they exchanged brightened his face. "I'm glad. You've sacrificed so much for us... I... I will never know how to thank you. Seeing you with him, how happy he makes you... it's all I've ever wanted. I just want us all to stop running, to find what we want."

Marian crossed her arms, and Carver seemed to know what was coming by the blush that spread across his face. "Is Merrill what you want?"

He didn't even seem to think about the answer. "Absolutely."

"Why don't you tell her?"

"In time, my sweet sister. Someone has to make sure mother is alright while you and Bethany chase your loves around."

She softly punched his shoulder, grabbing her staff before heading out the door.

_You better tell her eventually little brother, before Varric snatches her from you. He's awfully smitten with her._

"I'm actually heading to Varric's, she might be there you know. Maybe I will let her know you want to confess your undying love to her!"

"DON'T YOU DARE!" He called out, and she laughed maniacally, closing the door to their home.

_I'd never really do that, but Maker is it great to see the look on his face. _

Nothing made her feel as strong as they did. She would die for them a thousand times and never regret a thing.

* * *

Marian would know the path to the Hanged Man with her eyes closed. She made her way inside, and ran up the stairs. Varric had seemed desperate to speak to her in the letter he'd left her this morning, and when she burst through the door to his suite, only to hear the dwarf snoring, she rolled her eyes.

However, when she reached the foot of the bed, all the blood drained from her face as she gazed down on her pale beloved, wrapped in tinged bandages. Her breath rushed as she sat next to him, laying her hand against his head to find him warm and clammy.

_He has a fever. How long has it been? Where is everyone? _

"Anders?" she called, her heart pounding in her ears when he didn't respond.

"He's out cold. Templars tried to get him when he was on his way here for Wicked Grace last night. Luckily I paid off some men to watch after him, it seemed he planned to stick around." Varric was in a chair that sat beside the bed. Marian had been so distraught, she hadn't even seen him there, keeping an eye on their friend "My men jumped in and dispatched the threat, but not before they got a chance to run him through. He's been feverish all night, calling out for you."

"Why didn't you come for me!" She never shouted at Varric, and the moment the words fell past her lips, regret coiled in her stomach. Without any further delay, she rolled up her sleeves and removed Anders' bandages, gasping at the sight of a large gash on his left side, underneath his ribcage. She prodded it and even in his unconscious state, he groaned and she bit her lip, channeling healing magic to her fingers, imagining a needle and thread mending the skin together, just as her magic did.

The ragged hollow breaths eased, returning to normal, and she relaxed. "He will be fine, now. He just needs rest. Varric, if it's okay, could he stay here? He will be too weak to move."

"My palatial suite at The Hanged Man is your palatial suite, Hawke."

"Varric?"

"Yes, Hawke?"

"Please tell me they killed the bastards who did this to him."

"What do you think I mean by dispatched, my lady?" He winked at her and bowed, leaving her with Anders, to see about a spare room for himself for the night.

* * *

It had taken him a few days to recover, and she'd never left his side. Occasionally, her family would pop in to check up on her and sure she ate as well, not that she needed the reminder. She knew to keep her mana up, in case something or _someone_ decided to pop by. Damn gaining the coin for the Deep Roads, and damn those that needed her, when the man she loved lay weak in bed. She needed to take care of him, to see for herself that he was all right.

The irony wasn't lost on her that these were their first nights together, her arms wrapped around him as he drifted in and out of consciousness until the fever broke.

Finally the morning came where he woke without her gentle prodding, and she stirred slowly, savoring the feel of his fingers carding through her hair.

She lifted her head and grazed her mouth against his jaw, smiling when he let out a soft moan.

"Anders, thank the Maker," she responded with a hint of desperation as she pushed up onto her elbow. Brushing a loose hair behind his ear, she pressed her lips to his forehead, her shoulders slumping with relief. _His fever has broken_.

"Are you alright?" he asked as his eyes met hers.

Letting out a laugh, she replied, "Are you seriously asking _me_ if I'm alright? Did the templars also knock you on your head, my love?"

For the first time in days, mirth lit up his eyes as he erupted with laughing. The weight in her chest vanished, her heart melting as she listened.

It was too much, the thought of losing him. She dropped over him and they kissed deeply, his fingers finding his way into her hair as she ran her fingers over his chest. A sharp hiss slipped past his occupied lips when she grazed the spot she'd healed just days before.

"Still tender, then?"

He groaned. "Yes. That's very tender, beautiful."

"I'm so sorry. I should have been there."

"No, it's my fault. You warned me to be more careful."

"Luckily Varric hired some men to look after you.. Maker knows what would have happened to you if -" _If the templars took you. I will not lose you like I lost father. I refuse. _Her head dropped and tears burned as she fought to hold them back, afraid to look weak in front of the man who had stolen her heart.

"They will never take me alive, this I swear to you. I will drown us in blood to keep what we have, to keep you safe. Never doubt that, Marian." His eyes burned into her soul and she looked away, his gaze too intense, just like those words.

_What have I ever done to deserve this man, this undying loyalty?_

"I promise you, Anders. I never will."

* * *

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, _fifty sovereigns!_ We did it, Varric!" Hawke sounded triumphant, tossing the coin into the brown satchel sitting in the middle of the table as she lifted her mug, toasting with her friends in celebration.

Within a weeks' time Anders was fully recovered and had moved back to his clinic in Darktown, and everything returned to normal. Random nobles wishing Hawke and her crew to do their dirty work, and scrounging up all the coin until finally, a month later - they had it all.

"I was beginning to think we'd never have it all!" Bethany grinned, her arm resting on Carver's shoulders, both their cheeks red with drink. _Mother is going to kill me for bringing them home like this. Totally worth it. _

"So what now, Varric?" Carver hiccuped, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"I can go to Bartrand in the morning, and figure out how long it will take for us to be able to head out, see what resources we need, and what we have. Have you put any thought into who's coming with us, Hawke?"

* * *

"This is bullshit!" Carver slammed his glass against the wall, shattering it all over the suite floor and turning to his sister, ignoring Varric's disapproving look.

Maker, it killed her when he fought her.

"You don't understand, Carver. Keeping you and Bethany safe is my job and you don't -" She looked at Anders for the strength to continue and his warm smile carried her through, "You don't know what's down there. There are Darkspawn just like the ones you faced in Ostagar, yes. Did King Cailan ever take the time, to tell you what happens if one scratches you, or when their poisoned blades touch your skin?" Oh, she was angry now.

Anders hand found hers, and he spoke calmly. "The taint they carry can be transferred to you, and you'll be lost. You will turn into one of them. The only thing that can cure that is to become a Grey Warden, which means leaving everything you know behind, and they don't just take anyone. I hated the Wardens, personally. Just because you get tainted, doesn't mean they will help you. You could simply die."

Carver seemed to take in the weight of the realization and stepped back as is the words were flames. "Yet you would risk yourself? How selfish of you! I will not let you do this!"

"And I cannot let you go and risk yourself along with me. One of us has to go, you know that." Marian crossed the space between them and placed her hands on his shoulders. "We have lost so much already. Please don't ask this of me. I promise you I will do my best to come home and give us the home we rightfully deserve, but I need you here. Please, Carver. Don't do this to me. Don't put your life in my hands. I don't know what I would do if I lost you as well."

She could tell he was still angry with her but his shoulders released their tension and he let out a resigned sigh. "If you come back without her, I will have all of your heads on a spike by dawn the next morning." His eyes fell to Fenris, Isabela, Varric, and Anders - those that had volunteered without second thought to go with her. Together, they nodded, accepting responsibility for her life. Should they fail, the blame would be theirs and theirs alone.

She moved fast to place a kiss on his forehead before he could swat her away per the usual, but she was surprised when he didn't even lift a hand but instead wrapped his arms around her, and soon she felt the third warm body of her sisters' close in around them.

"You better come home to us. We will be so lost without you." Bethany's voice seemed so small and it hurt so much to know there was no guarantee they'd make it out of the expedition alive. She closed her eyes and prayed with her loved ones' arms wrapped around her. Of course she was scared, and of course they knew. They always knew.

_Maker, forget about me. Please just keep them safe while I'm gone. _

* * *

Bartrand was _nothing _like Varric.

He was shorter, more annoying and less friendly. Everything about him reeked of bad news, but she didn't have a choice. If Varric trusted him, that was good enough.

They all met in Hightown, ready to head to the Deep Roads. Carver, Bethany and her mother stood beside her, and she held Anders' hand as they discussed the plans, and rallied the men.

"If anyone is having second thoughts, get out of my sight now. There's no room for cowards where we're going." Bartrand's eyes scanned the group before him and none made a move. With the coin promised, who in the void would walk away from all of that?

Hawke held a folded up parchment that she slipped into her mother's hand. "Just in case anything happens, this is for you. I love you so much, mother. Please don't lose sleep over me. I will come home to you, and we will get the estate back. We will make the name Amell one to be proud of in this city."

Leandra's head dropped and sobs shook her shoulders, Marian taking her into her arms and buried her face in her mother's hair. Her mother's voice was soft in Hawke's ear, "Please come back. I don't care if you come back with nothing at all. Just come home to us in one piece." Her mother's frail arms squeezed her tightly and let her go, her mother quickly walking away and not looking back. Marian watched her disappear into the streets of Hightown, hoping it would not be the last of her she'd see.

She said her goodbyes to Aveline and Merrill, leaving the goodbyes with her siblings for last. They would hurt the most.

"I never thought I'd say this Anders, but you're a good man. A good mage. Please take care of yourself and the others. Mostly though, take care of my sister." Carver clapped a hand on Anders' back and she watched, pride swelling in her chest. He was becoming a man too fast, and it felt good to know she'd played a part in that growth. She remembered how she yelled at him for slamming the door in Anders' face on their first introduction, and now here he was showing the man affection and embracing him as one of his own.

Carver turned to her then and took her into his arms, placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her tightly. He had never in all their years showed her affection like this, except for the night their father died. "I can't lose you. Throw everything you've ever learned at any enemy that comes your way and always reserve some mana in case anything happens."

"You sound like father." She chuckled and squeezed back, "I promise I will be as safe as one can when visiting the Deep Roads after a blight." She felt his finger jab into her side and pushed him back to punch his arm, and they laughed.

"I love you, sister."

She choked back tears, and smiled. "And I you, my brother."

At that moment Isabela let out a loud whoop and their eyes averted to Fenris, who had taken Bethany in his arms.

His lyrium tattoos glowed brightly, but he made no move to harm her. They could hear nothing but the hushed sounds of whispers. It was the most contact Marian had ever seen the man give someone. Bethany kissed his cheek and he let her go, his tattoos fading as they broke apart. How much pain that exchange had caused him, she'd never know, but at least if anything happened, her sister had some indication as to what she meant to the elf.

Bethany ran to Anders and embraced him as well, squeezing him tightly and he picked her up and spun her. She was much like his little sister, over the past few months offering advice and help to him whenever things got rough, or there was a busy day in the clinic. She giggled and gave him a small bag of extra potions for the road. "Take care of her, Blondie."

"You know I will, Sunshine."

"Sister!" She ran to Marian and hugged her so tightly Marian swore she felt her back crack, and she laughed.

"I will miss you dearly, Bethany. I promise I will find a pretty necklace for you, and enough coin to buy you all the newest dresses in Hightown fashion."

"Ohhhhh, _I like that_. Can that be part of my bargain too?" Isabela cooed.

"I will miss you, too. I love you. Be good to one another down there, and stay safe. I gave Anders extra potions I've been making over the past few months, collecting the ingredients on our trips. I hope it serves you well."

"Thank you, sister."

After every goodbye was said, they collected their belongings and began the long trek out of Kirkwall, and into the Deep Roads.


End file.
